


To Dwell in Desire

by pearypie



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Confessions, Demonic Contracts, Devotion, Lust, M/M, letter writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:07:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7512910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearypie/pseuds/pearypie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered. - F. Scott Fitzgerald </p><p>(Or: Sebastian Michaelis writes a love letter.)</p><p>Ch. 2 now up: the earl's response.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Silk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The overture.

Young master, 

This shall be my last soliloquy though, I suspect you will not live long enough to read it. Nevertheless, it gives me wide discretion and enables me to put words to paper that are of a stranger disposition. For seven years I have sensed the decadence of your soul heighten until it reached the peak of perfection and I, ravenous with desire, cannot help but exalt the crucified beauty of your immortal self. 

My young master, you have instilled in me an ochre skyline—a swirling, dark blue ocean of cryptic adoration that I long to share with you one final time. You are the king and your word is law; say what you will—order me to your heart’s content—for in me there is nothing but a base desire to serve and please. For what could be sweeter than the reward of your kiss, given so reluctantly that I cannot help but be amused by your growing arousal when you at last press yourself against me. The frailty of your body and the temperance of your mind are my favorite things to break—to bring to an eternal ruin (though I suspect you shall soon have me on my knees for this act of  _insolence_ ). 

In the heedless, enveloping night I do yearn to hold you in my arms one final, beatific time. Though I have lived for centuries, the silk of your skin mocks the lust of my soul and I anguish over whether or not I should force myself into you then and there or wait until your petal soft mouth opens and you beg me to give you release. Always, it is such a battle—the stubbornness of your pride, infantile and derisive, opposes the greed of your hands, searching and grasping. You touch every part of me and still, you can never quite be sated. If I did not fear for your human precondition, I would take you as many times as I have lived and even then I would not be satisfied. 

How you squirm and cry out beneath me, slim legs all astride as they lock against my waist and you urge me to drive into you. Cheeks flushed just so and lips plump with hurried kisses; you are awaiting my eternal devotion though I must remind you young master, _you possess it already._ You have so much of me and I own so little of you that this imbalance strikes my deliberate fancy. The rhythm of my hips slows and the languid pace sets you on edge because even though your eyes are a benediction, it is your heavenly mouth I seek absolution from. 

Say my name. 

Call for me. 

_Sebastian._

That is all I need to hear before you have me, wholly and completely. Love me a little. I adore you. 

With closed eyes and an arched back, I will give you everything you desire, releasing you from the agonizing divide between paradise and purgatory. Sate yourself against me—feel the want of my appetite and know, young master, you will always have me. 

 

With amorous devotion, 

 

_Sebastian_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Feedback welcomed :)


	2. Ermine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The response.

Sebastian—

This is the last time I will address you by such. Come morning light, you shall be nothing more then smoke and vapor and I will have long since passed the cold churchyard and gone straight to hell—or wherever it is damned souls go nowadays. How can you possibly expect me to sleep knowing that I will soon die when the hour quickens to nine? But before you discount my vain strides towards redemption, it is not atonement I seek anymore. I despise, loathe, and _hate_ —with unrelenting intensity—every part of you. If I could, I would burn this whole world to ash; soak the earth in kerosene and gasoline if I knew there was even the slightest chance you would perish as well. 

You have made me weak and disposable—and I accepted your unholy promises because there was nothing else to believe in. I have come to depend on you for something beyond vengeance and there lies the great myth of all demons. You have woven in me something vile and beautiful. I look at you and I am blinded by the veil with which you cover yourself and you make it so that I do not wish to look further. I want to take you as you are now, cold and beautiful, an ever-fixed mark who caters to my exclusivity. 

What a wonderful, splendid lie. 

I cannot say I blame you as this contract was made on the grounds of total cognizance on my part—but that does not stop the depraved caverns of my heart from crying out in anguish. You have for so long stood by my side and aided me in this great game. Now, you will be lost to me and I am torn between the hope of contentment and the agony of our final conclusion. I have resigned myself to this fate and will not miss humanity’s strife or the pearlescent luxury I have become accustomed to. I have no need for finery, not when I have subsided—for these past seven years alone—on the ambrosial sex of your kisses and the tortured finesse of your heated mouth. Even if half of me lives and breathes for you, there is still some selfish, starved waif dying in my badly made heart who wishes to live for me.

I am desperately, rationally aware of everything you stand for and that the concept of human affection holds no place with your vile sympathies. Yet the human heart is a tragic instrument and you have played it well. If you suspect that this is begrudging respect, you’re more foolish than I thought. The suicide of my sanity has left behind nothing but an aberrant shell, stripped of coherence and good sense. 

Somewhere in me—even after death—there will always be the person you crafted in creation, who will forever hold some inkling of that torrid emotion singers sing about. This is not a confession of ardor but a reminder that I have persisted beyond your honeyed words of romance. Guile and trickery are a demon’s forte but even those weapons hold no sway over a being so resigned to his eternal damnation. 

You have satisfied my revenge and then some. 

At long last, I feel nothing in letting you go. 

 

In singular fashion, 

 

Lord Ciel Phantomhive, Earl Phantomhive—the Queen’s Watchdog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- “an ever-fixed mark…” — references Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116. 
> 
> A/N: I had to write Ciel’s response. I just had to. (Up to you to decide whether or not Ciel actually feels anything in letting Sebastian go.)


End file.
